


Learning Curve

by athena_crikey



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations
Genre: Boruto looks after his moon, Friendship, Gen, Mitsuki looks after his sun, Protection, h/c, mission, pre-chunin exams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 08:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: He’s learned so many things today, Mitsuki reflects as his eyes slip closed. He wonders if he’ll learn what death is.





	Learning Curve

Mitsuki is born brimming over with knowledge and experience, his brain crammed full of skills and strategies he was never taught but simply knew. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon he steps forward into the world ready to survive and thrive. It’s typical of Orochimaru, he later realizes, that his parent would prefer to spend years alone perfecting the technology to create him full-formed than spend those years together teaching him face-to-face. 

The one thing he doesn’t know is pain. He knows that injuries are the sign of a mistake, of carelessness, of failure. He knows that with a wound comes pain, and with pain reduced stamina and flexibility and control. 

But until he steps in front of the sword that’s spinning through the air like a Catherine wheel, until he feels the steel cut through his skin and slide between his ribs to skewer his lung, he doesn’t really _understand_. 

“Oh,” he says, softly, as his knees fold under him. Pain is white-hot and ice cold, pain is razor-edged and blunt as a meat tenderizer, pain is all-encompassing, is endless, is _exquisite_. “_Oh_,” he says again, and this time tastes blood in his mouth. 

Staring him in the eye, face white and pupils dilated like saucers, is Boruto. “Mitsuki,” whispers the boy, the sound of his voice like the weakest breath of wind rustling leaves. 

“Run,” advises Mitsuki, slumping further forward, the sword-point protruding from his chest. 

But then, this hasn’t happened yet.

  
***

_That morning_

“_Another_ mission to _another_ run-down village?” Boruto is whining, feet kicking as he sits on the park bench. Mitsuki likes the way he is never still, the way he flows like water, like wind, like a raging storm – it counters his own inherent calm. Mitsuki grew up in solitude and silence and stillness, and Boruto is a taste of fresh air. 

“I’ve told you before, Boruto, genin are assigned C and D rank missions. You’re lucky we’re getting out of the village at all – most of your classmates are taking up tasks here in Konoha.”

“Yeah, lucky,” mutters Boruto. 

“Bo-ru-to,” begins Sarada, raising her finger, “all missions are important – they help us hone our skills and prepare us for advancement. Even the Hokage once ran C and D rank missions, right Sensei?”

Konohamaru nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course.”

“Don’t bring my dead-beat Dad into it. You want to be Hokage, don’t you? How does tilling fields or fighting thugs or … or…” Boruto turns to Konohamaru, “I don’t even know what they want us to do – but I bet it’s super boring.”

“There’s a local troupe of bandits,” begins Konohamaru.

Boruto kicks both feet out together, spreading his arms to the sky above. “Bandits again! What about other shinobi? What about something _challenging_? C’mon niichan, you know we’re ready.”

Konohamaru’s expression is calm, but unmovable. “It’s bandits or nothing. Come on or we’ll be late. I’ll give you the details on the way.”

Mitsuki stands, Sarada popping up next to him. Boruto, still grumbling, pulls himself to his feet. 

“Bandits!” exclaims the blond shinobi once more, contemptuously.

  
***

Mitsuki agrees that C and D rank missions are boring – and unlike Sarada, he doesn’t see them as necessary for himself. He’s never had to train his skills, and as such the notion of progressive experience is foreign to him.

But he is aware that both the others have grown since his time in the village. He’s seen their ninjutsu and taijutsu improve, seen their creativity and confidence grow. So despite the potential for boredom, he looks forward to their missions – he never knows what new circumstance will yield something interesting. 

Their mission today is typical; defend a village against the small team of bandits that’s been raiding it. They arrive at the village and meet with the elder, who tells them that the bandits are based in an abandoned quarry to the east of the village and that they’ve killed the villagers who have tried to chase them away. Their numbers, skills and weapons are a mystery to the villagers, who have taken to hiding in their houses with the doors and windows barred when the interlopers arrive in town. 

“We’ll work in teams,” says Konohamaru as they study his map of the area, his finger tapping the quarry. “Myself and Sarada will cause a distraction on the rim of the quarry; Boruto and Mitsuki will destroy their lair and take care of any who don’t come out to see what’s happening. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” they all chorus. 

Konohamaru nods and rolls up the map.

  
***

The quarry is deep, with undrained pools of water on the dirt floor and huge boulders lying here and there like a giant’s playthings. The four of them stand on the edge looking down. There’s a cave in one of the walls with a tarp erected over its entrance: the bandit’s stronghold.

Konohamaru produces an exploding tag tied to a kunai. “Ready?” he asks. They all nod. He throws it at a tree, and uses a wind jutsu to expand the size of the explosion, magnifying the boom. 

Boruto and Mitsuki run down the quarry wall and begin dodging across its base. 

That’s when Mitsuki senses the chakra. A moment later a dark figure flashes by, then another. 

These aren’t bandits – they’re shinobi.

“Mitsuki!” shouts Boruto, coming to the same conclusion. An instant later he’s blocking a blow from a tanto with his kunai, sparks flying. Mitsuki flips backwards to dodge a volley of shuriken. Up above he can hear Konohamaru-sensei shouting, but he’s too focused to make out the words. 

There are three of them down here, and from the speed and skill with which they’re dodging they appear to be chunin level. One is tall and lanky with a red bandana and a katana, one short and squat with what looks like a cleaver on a rope, and one is female – the one with the tanto, currently after Boruto. 

Outnumbered by chunins is not a good place to be, but it’s not impossible either. From the sounds of the battle taking place on the lip overlooking the quarry they can’t look to Konohamaru-sensei for help. Mitsuki takes a breath and slides past a katana strike, lashing out with a kunai as he passes the shinobi; it’s repulsed by the sword. 

Boruto has summoned three clones and is kicking and pummelling at the tanto-wielder; Mitsuki leaves him to that and performs the wind scythe jutsu, throwing blades of air at the short shinobi who is staying back. This prompts a fireball jutsu in return, which Mitsuki dodges handily. The short one has powerful chakra but is slow, the swordsman so far hasn’t used any ninjutsu but seems adept at kenjutsu. With only his kunai Mitsuki is at a disadvantage against a skilled swordsman; he decides to deal with the short one first. 

Dodging across the quarry he sends out a stream of snakes, and when the short shinobi dodges hurriedly he has already thrown three shuriken into that space; they impact with the shinobi’s shoulder and he bellows. With a roar he throws his cleaver towards Mitsuki, the rope whistling along behind it. Mitsuki dodges once, and then again when a yank of the rope pulls it back towards him – it’s imbued with chakra. 

Mitsuki uses his wind scythes again to try to slice through the rope to no avail, and just when he’s found a good angle for a second snake attack the katana wielder comes raging forward and he’s forced to handspring away. He takes an instant to check on Boruto – still fighting the woman – and returns his focus to the short one. This time he uses his lightning snake attack, electricity ripping forward through the air. The short shinobi blocks it with a second fireball. Mitsuki loosens his joints with chakra and snaps his arms out to grab the shinobi and pull himself through the air towards him, letting go at the last instant and spinning to kick out feet-first. He manages to land a blow, but it has little impact.

He checks on Boruto again, throwing a kunai to send the woman tottering off-guard, then begins throwing out more jutsu: wind release followed by wind scythes followed again by lightning snake. But the short shinobi has found his footing and is countering steadily – he likely has a greater wealth of chakra than Mitsuki, who is beginning to get light-headed. The katana user is steadily pressing him forward, the two shinobi trying to sandwich him, and he’s getting too tired to dodge away. With his attention divided by constantly checking on Boruto, he’s at a distinct disadvantage. He has to end this. 

He takes a step and feels the muddy earth beneath him slip. He glances down and sees water on the ground – the pools of rainwater. It gives him an idea. He loosens his arms again and whips himself across the space between him and the short shinobi, this time missing him on purpose to send him dodging backwards, into a puddle of water. Mitsuki unleashes the lightning snake – not at the shinobi, but at the wide pool of water he’s standing in. The man doesn’t realise what’s happening in time to dodge the attack that’s not aimed at him; lightning hits the water’s surface and races up his legs, electrocuting him. He groans and collapses. 

Mitsuki is breathing hard, his chakra reserve empty. He can feel dizziness eating away at the edge of his senses, trying to find a stronghold, and shakes his head. He looks to Boruto, who with a three-clone counter has just managed to take down the woman. The blond boy is sitting panting on the ground, head tilted back to the sky and sweat running down his face. His holster has been torn away, his remaining kunai spread on the ground several yards away. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye catches Mitsuki’s attention. The kenjutsu user is moving, arm wheeling back and then over. It’s not Mitsuki he’s aiming at, but Boruto. He’s throwing his sword – a daring, dramatic move. And one Boruto is in no position to counter.

Mitsuki is already moving. Using the last of his chakra to speed his movements he sprints across the quarry, feet hardly touching the ground, wind flying through his hair. As fast as he’s ever run – faster than he’s ever run – so fast the edges of his world are blurred. 

And now it’s the present again, and here he is between Boruto and a flying sword.

He dodges in front of Boruto, back to the swordsman, just as the blade slams into him. Pierces through his back as though he were a straw dummy, the tip of the blade sliding wetly out his front. 

Pain. He slips to his knees, breathing suddenly difficult, agony ripping through his body. 

“Run,” he tells Boruto, even as his ears tell him the kenjutsu user is approaching. 

Boruto snaps out of it. Leans forward and, from Mitsuki’s own weapons pouch, produces a kunai. “I’ll be right back,” he snarls, and leaps over Mitsuki. “Wait for me, Mitsuki,” he hears the boy shout, even as he slumps to the ground, katana pushed from his chest to clatter to the ground. While its entry had been excruciating, its entry is almost unbearable; his back arcs, his head hitting the ground. There’s a buzzing in his ears; it blocks out sound, leaving him in silence. 

The colour is bleeding from the world. He never realised how beautiful monochrome was, how crisp and clear. But then there would be no blue to Boruto’s eyes, no gold to his hair, and that feels wrong. 

He watches as Boruto and the swordsman – now without his sword – trade blows. Boruto, with a kunai, has the advantage. He summons more clones, each with a weapon, and beats the kenjutsu user down blow by blow. He’s angry, Mitsuki realises – no, is furious. Is shouting, screaming, stabbing at his enemy with violence and venom. When the swordsman finally falls, beaten into unconsciousness, Boruto is plastered with sweat and trembling. 

Boruto scrambles back, kneeling beside Mitsuki. “I’ll get you to help right away,” he says, voice barely audible over the buzzing. “You’re gonna be fine.” He’s holding Mitsuki’s hand – he’s so warm, so bright, just like the sun.

“Of course,” whispers Mitsuki, bloody froth in his mouth. 

There’s water leaking from Boruto’s eyes. Tears, thinks Mitsuki. These are tears. 

For some reason his own heart contracts, a further ounce of pain added to the agony already burning through him. He never knew his heart could hurt. 

His vision is fading as Boruto’s clones pick him up. They carry him up the side of the cliff to where Konohamaru and Sarada are just finishing their own fight. 

“Konohamaru-no-niichan,” begs Boruto, in a tone Mitsuki’s never heard from him. Konohamaru turns and sees him, his face losing its colour. 

“Give him to me, and follow as fast as you can,” says Konohamaru, taking Mitsuki. Mitsuki doesn’t want to leave Boruto’s arms, doesn’t want to lose that warmth. But Sensei’s grip is stronger and surer, his body firm against Mitsuki’s. Then they’re moving, running, flying through the trees like birds. 

He’s learned so many things today, Mitsuki reflects as his eyes slip closed. He wonders if he’ll learn what death is.


End file.
